Page 31 of The Single Dad Project

Sydney snorted. “This is Remi Howard we’re talking about. You know she’s not caving to pressure. In her words, she refuses to allow a loudmouth, ignorant minority to determine the freedoms of the majority. Oh, and that they can go fuck themselves.”

Flo barked out a laugh, because while the pretty, kind librarian was endlessly sweet, no one would dare call her a doormat. Particularly when it came to those she loved and her passion for books.

“We might be planning a rally against book banning with Israel and me attending,” Jenna said, studying her nails with a satisfied smirk. Israel Ford, also known as number oneNew York Timesbestselling romance author I.M. Kelly, also resided in Rose Bend, and Jenna counted him as a good friend. “Coincidentally, with a television crew already in town, it should be a real good time.”

“I’m sure I’ll be free whatever day that is to take pictures so they can magically appear on social media,” Flo casually mentioned.

“And I’m sure I’ll have no problem encouraging Cole to push a permit through for the rally. As a matter of fact, I’m positive he’ll make it a priority once he finds out what Jasper’s up to.” Sydney held up a finger as if dotting an i.

“And I will personally contact local business owners to see if they’re willing to support, from donations to food to posting flyers in their storefront windows,” Leo volunteered. “Once I explain not only the importance of the cause, but also that any event including two internationally known bestselling authors will bring press and visitors to Rose Bend—which means possible revenue for their establishments—most of them will be on board.”

“Is it me, or did we just prove in my mother’s kitchen that women run this world?” Flo mused, tapping a bare fingernail against her bottom lip.

“Hell yeah, we did.” Sydney crossed her arms over her chest and dipped her chin in the “Wakanda, Forever” salute. When Flo squinted at her, Sydney waved her off, picking up her wineglass. “What? It’s never not appropriate.” Her sister-in-law flicked a couple of fingers in her direction. “Now, back to the other important matter... Flo, your first day on theVintage Renovationset. More specifically, your first day on theVintage Renovationset with one gorgeous architect. Dish, baby sis-in-law. Is he as—”

“He’s an ass,” Leo snapped. “We don’t like him.”

Sydney blinked and Jenna glanced from Leo to Flo.

“We don’t?” Jenna asked.

“No.” Leo scowled. “Women solidarity.”

“You know I’m down,” Sydney said, moving around the island to where the delicious aroma of baked chicken emanated. “But just so I know why we’re hating on him, what’d he do to earn ass status?”

“He told our Flo that she didn’t deserve to be on the renovation.”

Jenna arched a dark auburn eyebrow. “He actually let those words exit his mouth?”

Flo sighed, eyeing the mashed potatoes again. “Pretty much.” Then she recounted for them her conversation with Adam.

Varying degrees of surprise and outrage crossed their expressions.

“Damn.” Jenna shook her head. “And here I thought Isaac’s days of working on his truck and blasting that godawful country music at the crack of dawn were behind me. Seems I’m going to have to get him out there again.”

“You will not.” Flo laughed. They’d all heard the story of how Jenna met her then neighbor and nemesis turned love of her life. And now, Adam rented Isaac’s former house. “As much as Adam Reed can kick rocks with flip-flops, he has an adorable, sweet little girl. Otherwise, I’d say, add acid rock to the line-up.”

The redhead heaved a loud, exaggerated sigh.

“Fine. But he says something slick to you again and it’s neighborhood wars on our street.”

“I’m here!” Nessa, Wolf’s wife, burst into the kitchen, their four-year-old son riding her hip. “Whew. The clinic was super busy today,” she complained, setting Everett down. Crossing the room to the island, she grabbed one of the cookies Moe always had available for the inn’s guests and handed it to her son. “Sweetie, go on to the living room and play with your cousins while we finish up dinner, okay?”

Everett didn’t need to be told twice. Chocolate chip cookie in hand, he dashed out of the kitchen to find his cousins.

Nessa frowned, hands propped on her scrubs-covered hips.

“I should feel a little offended that he ran out of here so fast, right? I mean, I carried him for nine months and two weeks, his lil’ rugrat cousins didn’t.”

“Hey!” Leo scowled.

“Hold up!” Sydney protested. “Yes, you should be offended because obviously he likes them more than you, but my daughters are among those rugrats.”

“My son, too,” Leo added.

“Uh-huh. Come at me after alcohol and food.” Nessa waved away their objections, moving toward the wine. Jenna retrieved a glass from the cabinet and set it down in front of her. “Is dinner almost ready? I’m starved. I need to eat Moe’s baked chicken and my feelings about Ivy being asked to the prom by some fast-ass football player. I know what a senior wants with my junior sister,” she grumbled, double-palming her glass as Jenna poured the Riesling.

Leo laughed. “You sound like Moe. She’s been in denial about Cher graduating this year, and prom is just a reminder she can’t run away from. Hence—” she jabbed a finger toward the oven “—us having an impromptu family dinner on top of our usual Sunday one.”

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